Ze Germans
by Fuse
Summary: After the diamond, things are looking up for our favorite pair of miscreants. But there's always something isn't there.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: The movie Snatch and all the characters in it belongs to Guy Richie and a whole horde of other blokes that I don't know the names of. I gain nothing off this scribble except writing experience and a bit of satisfaction.

Chapter 1

Tommy and Turkish lay on their backs in the middle of the boxing ring, head to head and staring at the ceiling. An expensive bottle of scotch stood next to Turkish, nearly empty. The minutes ticked by as the two men lay in silence and then Tommy spoke.

"Have you thought about what we're gonna do then Turk?"

Silence met his enquiry and Tommy figured that Turk was still mad at him for opening his mouth. He sighed ruefully. He was always getting himself into trouble with his big mouth, no matter how hard he tried to stay quiet.

"S'okay Tommy."

The sound next to his ear made Tommy jump but at least it meant that Turkish was talking to him.

"You got a plan then?" he asked timidly.

"Yeah, I got a plan." Said Turkish as he levered himself into a sitting position and looked around with blurry eyes for the bottle. Raising it to his lips, he drained it and then tossed it across the ring where it rolled over the edge and broke on the stone floor.

Shrugging, he started getting to his feet. After the third attempt, he stayed on his arse and looked up at Tommy who had obtained an upright posture almost five minutes ago.

"Need a hand then?" asked Tommy, master of stating the obvious.

Turkish scowled at him and wordlessly held out a hand to his partner, who took hold and heaved him onto his feet.

When Turkish had stopped swaying and seemed reasonably secure on his feet, Tommy felt confident enough to ask:

"What's the plan then?"

Turkish looked down at Tommy, who had that annoying look in his eyes. The one that said he believed Turkish could get them out of any scrape they managed to find themselves in.

"I plan on going home to bed, to sleep."

Tommy was sure his face looked as crestfallen as his innards felt and it was confirmed when Turkish asked:

"What, you don't like the plan?"

"Well, I just, only…" Tommy stammered.

"Spit it out." snapped Turkish.

"What about Hans?"

"What about Hans? I don't recall inviting him to sleep with me."

Tommy sighed. Even drunk, the cutting sarcasm never left Turkish's tone, in fact, sometimes it made it worse.

"What about the fight?"

"What about it? I plan on making money on it."

"But what about…Bethany?"

Turkish turned his full gaze on Tommy and spoke in a tone that had grit in it.

"She got herself into this and she can get herself out of it."

"But…but…but…" started Tommy.

"But fucking nothing Tommy, we're not her guardian angels y'know. Now lets go home."

Tommy shook his head and grinned at nothing, knowing that the other mans act was just that – an act. Catching up with Turkish, he grabbed the ropes as the bigger man wrestled his way through them and staggered down to the floor.

Tommy locked up as they left the building and then the two of them made their way down the street, light drizzle darkening the shoulders of their matching camel coats. By the time they reached the building where they lived, Turkish was partially soaked and mostly sober.

Tommy's flat was on the first floor and Turkish's was on the third. He assured the younger man that he was more than capable of making it to his door safe and sound.

"What could happen to me? "He called from the elevator. "Ze Germans?"

Tommy knew he shouldn't say anything but he couldn't stop himself.

"Actually Turk, they already did happen to you."

A loud: "Fuck you Tommy" was echoed by the slamming of the elevator gate and the rumble of the old machinery as it hoisted the cage upwards.


	2. Chapter 2

Yay! Two review! Thanks for the interest – here's some more.

Chapter 2

Turkish made it all the way to his bed before the temporary sobriety gave into the dizziness that came with drinking the better half of a bottle of scotch. He fell onto his back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling until the spinning of the cracks became too much and he closed his eyes.

Two hours later he woke up to a splitting headache and feeling that something had crawled into his mouth and died. In the dark he groped for the lamp and flicked it on without thinking. The soft light seemed to pierce his aching brain and he switched it off with a muttered:

"Fuck me."

In the soothing dark he swung himself off the bed and gingerly stood up. Finding that he had balance, he took advantage of it, making his way to the bathroom where he turned on the shower and waited for the water to heat up. Climbing in, he let the hot water stream over his lean frame while his mind wandered back in time.

FLASHBACK:

When he saw the diamond, Turk knew that his problems were just beginning. No one can just land that amount of dosh and not have problems hiding it. He and Tommy had a hundred discussions about what to do with it until they finally settled on buying a proper gym where maybe they could actually find a way into the legal world of boxing. But just like life – things didn't work out that way.

"But it smells." Whined Tommy as they walked around the main area of the empty building.

"Course it smells, it's a gym you ass." Snapped Turk as he breathed deep, savoring the aroma of stale sweat, old wood and damp mold.

"A dirty gym." Muttered Tommy, casting his eyes over the peeling walls and the stained floor. "I think that's blood over there."

Turk stopped and looked at the maroon stain that Tommy was pointing at. He gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to his partner.

"Tommy, what did we do after every match we had in the underground lot?"

"We counted the money or stitched up gorgeous George – depending on which way the match went." Replied the younger man.

"Right. What did Splashy do?"

Splashy was the name that they had given to the bloke that washed the blood off the fighters and the ring when they were done. He had disappeared when Brick Top had bit it, never to be seen again.

"He washed the ring." Said Tommy slowly, understanding dawning at last.

"Okay, so tell me why you have a problem with that stain then?" asked Turk, actually dreading the reply.

"Well, y'dunno whose blood it is do you?" said Tommy primly.

Turkish rolled his eyes, clenching and unclenching his hands while fighting off the urge to hit Tommy. Eventually he settled down, turned his back on the shorter man and stepped over to the tall blonde man waiting by the door.

"We'll take it."

"Ah, das good ja?" asked the blonde man in a thick German accent. "We go do the papers now."

So before they could say pikey – they were the proud owners of a six year lease with Hans Krieger, whose ownership of property extended right past the London city limits.

After Hans had left, Tommy and Turk sat in the ring, quietly surveying their little kingdom and wondering what the hell they had gotten themselves into now.

"I don't trust him." Said Tommy emphatically, shaking his head.

"So you've said." Sighed Turk. "About a hundred times now."

"I just want you to know how serious I mean this – I don't…"

"Trust him." Turk finished Tommy's sentence and then added:

"Yeah I get it Tommy, he's not exactly at the top of my Christmas list either okay? Now are we going to sit here and bitch about the new landlord or are we going down to the pub and have a celebratory pint eh?"

"Okay Turk. Pint it is then."

Carefully locking the door behind them, the two left the gym and walked down the street to the pub.

The days after that ran together in a montage of activity. Gorgeous was soon out of hospital and back in the training ring. Turk had to find the sparring partners and potential new talent and to his surprise, Tommy was handling the bookish end of things. Turned out, the little man had a talent for figures.

For the first time in their lives, Turk and Tommy were handling genuine fights, for good money and a better reputation. Not those horrid little fights that they used to have in dark lots and empty warehouses. And the best thing of all was no Brick Top muscling in on them and ordering fight results at his leisure.

"It never lasts." Muttered Turk, back in the present. He had finished in the shower and was toweling off with a bit more force than necessary. Chucking the damp towel over the rail, he stalked to the bedroom to put some clothes on.

FLASHBACK:

The pair had been running the gym for almost seven months when things decided to take their natural course and go decidedly pear shaped.

It started when he noticed a boy of about ten years old hanging around the gym, watching the training. He had tried to run him off but the little tyke kept coming back from various angles and secret hiding places. Eventually Turk decided to give him a job – as a sweeper.

In the weeks that followed he managed to gather that boy's name was Eddie and that he lived with his five other siblings. The seventh member of their household was his oldest sister – Bethany, who according to him, was doing a bang up job of keeping them all together since their folks died.

He remembered a snatch of conversation that he'd had while they were closing up one night.

"Your sister know where you are at night?"

Eddie slid the broom across the floor with strict concentration and pretended not to hear the question. Turk narrowed his eyes and stopped the broom with his foot, forcing the youngster to look up at him.

"She hasn't got a clue has she?"

Shamefaced, Eddie shook his head and looked at the floor. A dull redness climbed from underneath his collar to climb up his neck and spread across his face. Then he looked up and Turk and pleaded:

"Please don't tell 'er. She'd be ever so angry with me."

"Why? You're not cutting school to come here are you?"

"No. It's just…"

He trailed away into silence and Turk wondered if there was something wrong at home. Then he wondered why the fuck he cared.

"Just what Eddie?" he asked, getting impatient.

It took Eddie two tries to get the sentence out but eventually he whispered:

"She works to give us kids everythin' an we wanted to get her somethin nice is all."

Turk nearly laughed at the simplicity of it all but then smothered the urge, remembering that a young boy's pride was a prickly thing indeed.

"You'd better get back to work then, if you want to get something nice for your sister."

He left him to his sweeping and went into the office where Tommy was busy with the previous night's takings.

Turk had finished dressing when he realized that he was not going back to sleep. So he padded into the kitchen to make himself a cuppa. While waiting for the kettle, he thought about the first time he had met Bethany.

FLASHBACK

Eddie was just about finished with the main floor and was just about to start on the office when he heard a banging at the door and the one voice he had hoped never to hear within the gym's walls.

"Open up you lot, I want my brother!"

He acted on impulse and darted into Turk's office, wedging himself under the desk. He knew that Bethany wouldn't lift a hand to him, only look at him with those eyes and they were worse than a thousand scoldings or spankings.

Turk was sitting with Tommy and they looked at each other then stood up and made their way to the door, where the voice was calling:

"Don't make me break this lock out!"

With a small frown, Tommy carefully unlocked the door and slowly started to open it, when the person on the other side pushed it into him, whereupon he promptly lost his balance and his wind and sat on the floor wheezing.

Bethany strode through the doorway, her heart pounding with fear for her brother. Although this area wasn't a complete slum, it still wasn't a place for a ten-year-old boy to be wandering at night. Ignoring the breathless noises from behind her, she stomped up to the man in front of her and waited.

Turkish nearly took a step backwards when the young woman stalked right up to him. It had been a long time since he'd seen a woman that was as tall as what he was and when the aforementioned woman was carrying a tire iron with murder in her eyes, caution wasn't a bad idea.

Bethany looked into the brown eyes that were on the same level as her own and hoped that her fear was still hidden. Although they were warm, they radiated a subtle menace that she had never seen before, not even in the cage. Tightening her grip on the tire iron, she stepped a bit closer and said in a low tone:

"Where is he?"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

Tommy regained his footing and giving the woman a wide berth; he made his way to stand next to Turk. He looked up at her face and was secretly glad that she had decided to deal with Turkish.

"I take it you're Bethany then?" asked Turk calmly.

She narrowed her eyes at the mention of her name and then gave a short nod.

"Aye. Where's Eddie?"

Turning to Tommy, he said:

"Find 'im."

Tommy trotted off in the direction of the office and Turkish turned his attention back to Bethany. He looked her up and down and then noticed something. A thin stream of blood was coming from inside her jacket sleeve, trailing down the back of her hand, in between her clenched fingers and down the tire iron to make a small patch near her foot.

Pointing with his chin, he said:

"Not to be rude miss, but did you know that you're dripping on my floor?"

She glanced down then glared at him and flicked her eyes at Tommy who was coming out of the office with Eddie trailing reluctantly behind.

The moment she saw the boy was okay, her posture softened and she dropped to one knee and held out her unbloodied hand to him.

"Eddie." She said in a gentle tone. "What are you doing here?"

Eddie was trying to hide behind Tommy and Turkish reached round him and dragged him out to face his sister. With shuffling feet, Eddie walked up to Bethany and allowed her to hug him close to her.

"I'm sorry!" he exclaimed as he burst into tears.

"It's okay. Shhh." She said as she stroked his back. But the boy's tears continued and he couldn't get anything out that made sense. Rubbing his back, she looked up at Turkish and Tommy and said:

"What's he doing here?"

"He's been comin 'ere for a couple of weeks now. Said he wanted to get his sister somethin nice, so we gave him a job as the sweeper."

"I ju, ju, just wanted to help." Eddie wailed between sobs.

Understanding dawned on Bethany and she held the boy closer.

"Oh Ed's. You are so sweet."

"He suh, suh, said that he'd toss us out." cried Eddie, looking up. "You thought I couldn't hear but I could."

"Oh Eds." She said sadly and hugged him even closer.

She waited until his crying had abated and then tilted his chin up with one finger.

"I've already made a plan with the money but it was very brave of you to get a job to try and help."

"I like it." He sniveled.

"I'm sure you do, it's always nice having a job. Now, are you finished?"

"No, I still have to do the office."

She stood up carefully, making sure that he didn't see the blood puddle by her foot. Putting the clean hand on his shoulder she said:

"Go on then and finish up. I'll stay here and have a talk with your boss okay?"

"Right." Said Eddie and shuffled off towards the office, sure that his days of employment were at an end.

They waited until the boy was out of earshot and then Bethany turned to Turkish.

"So what happens now?"

"Well, I'm sure you can see we aint harmin im."

"I mean about him working here."

"He's right handy round here. Wouldn't mind keepin im if you didn't have a problem with it."

She pinned him with her eyes and said in an even tone laced with promise:

"He doesn't ever leave here without me or else there be hell to pay right?"

"Right." Nodded Turk.

Tommy, who had been silent the whole time, suddenly piped out.

"Hey up Turk, she's drippin!"

"How astute." Muttered Bethany and rolled her eyes.

She threaded the tire iron through one of her belt loops and rummaged in her coat pocket for a tissue to wipe away the blood. All she could come up with was a sad scrap of toilet paper that wouldn't wipe away a tear.

"Here, use this." Turkish held out his pristine pocket-handkerchief surprising Bethany and himself. She took it warily and scrubbed at her hand, wiping away most of the blood. Then she stuffed it up her sleeve to stop more of it coming out.

"I'll get Eddie to bring it back after I've washed it." She promised.

"Sure." He shrugged.

"What happened with you?" asked Tommy timidly, not sure if her temper had boiled down.

"When I got home and couldn't find Eddie, one of the twins told me he'd gone to the Turkish man. So I ran out to ask around for him. I wasn't looking where I was going and ran into a wire fence, it's nothing, just a scratch."

"That's a lot of blood for a scratch." Said Turk mildly.

"I'm fine. A plaster and it'll be as right as rain." She insisted.

"Twins?" said Tommy. "How many kids are there, Eddie mentioned six."

Bethany sighed; realizing that there was no way that she could avoid talking about herself and the family.

"Yeah, there are six, seven with me – I'm the eldest and then there's Eddie whose twelve."

"I thought he was only ten!" exclaimed Tommy.

"Nah, he's just little. All the boys are a little small for their age."

"Who comes next?" asked Tommy, curious.

"The twins are next, they're eight, Jack and Timothy. Then there's Elizabeth whose seven and Janet and Albert who are the youngest at five."

Turkish and Tommy shared a look of raised eyebrows.

"That's a handful of kids. How old are you then?" asked Turkish baldly.

She narrowed her eyes at him and said:

"That's actually none of your business but if you must know, I'm twenty."

"That's not very old, what happened to your parents?" asked Tommy.

"Car accident!" she snapped. "Would you like to know what I had for breakfast as well?"

The temper was back in place and Turkish rolled his eyes while jabbing Tommy in the ribs with a well-placed elbow.

"Shut it you stupit git. Just now, she'll be askin about our families." He hissed.

She nearly laughed out loud since she had been working on a list of very nosy questions. She swallowed her scathing barrage as Eddie came out of the office with the broom and waited till he'd put it away and walked over to them.

"All done then?" asked Tommy, clasping a hand to his tender ribs.

The boy nodded and then looked up at Bethany, who looked down at him.

"You ready then?"

He nodded miserably and she smiled.

"As long as your marks at school stay okay, you can still come here."

"Really?" asked Eddie, first looking at her and then at Turk and Tommy. They both nodded and he turned his eyes back to Bethany who said firmly:

"Really, but I'll be here to walk you home at night. Those streets aren't a place for you in the dark."

Eddie couldn't say anything so he grabbed her round the waist and squeezed.

"Come on then, dinner's still got to be done and by now, Timmy's probably tried to eat the carpet."

Eddie giggled and looked at Turk.

"I'll see you tomorrow Mr. Turk, Mr. Tommy."

"Cheers Eddie, see you tomorrow." Said Tommy.

Turkish walked with them to the door where Bethany held back while Eddie kicked at a cobblestone.

"Thank you, for keeping 'im on." she said softly. "An' I'm sorry about the shoutin'."

Turkish smiled briefly and then said:

"I'll bet that hurt more than your 'scratch'."

"What?"

'Apologizin'."

She glared at him and then backed out the door.

"Good night."

Turning her back on him, she collected Eddie and they made their way down the street where they vanished into the dark.

Going back into the building, Turkish closed the door behind him and locked it. Turning to Tommy he grinned and said:

"I say we call it a night yeah?"

They left the gym through the back door where they headed to their favorite pub for their evening pint, where Turkish found his mind constantly wandering down the street and it wasn't looking for his bed.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Thanks for the interest guys. I'm actually hoping to keep this short since my stories have a tendency to get away from me. Anyway, next installment!

Chapter 4

Bethany was sitting at the kitchen table with her head resting on her folded arms. It was nine in the morning and she had just gotten back after seeing the children off to school and daycare. Today was her day off, the only time off she would have for the whole month and there was a boatload of work to do.

The house keeping was not top of her agenda since they had worked out a system long ago, where every child washed their own plate at meal times and made their own beds in the morning. She kept the rest of the place in shape and the whole thing worked after a fashion. Old lady Hennesy down the block did the washing and ironing and Bethany did any mending late at night.

The work that was waiting for her was more building maintenance. The seven of them were living in an old warehouse. The open space at the bottom was their main living area, the kitchen, the bathroom and a place for the kids to play. The upstairs offices were converted to bedrooms, the biggest one for the boys and then the second biggest for the girls. She was in the smallest room, not needing much space.

Sitting up, she surveyed the space around her and sighed, desperately wanting to give the kids a better place but knowing that she was doing the best she could.

You could give them much more if you just got back into the business.

The thought rose up in her mind and she squashed it savagely, speaking out loud to the empty spaces:

"No. This time is the last time. Tonight and no more."

That's what you said the last time.

Deciding that action was the best way to silence the inner voices, she stood up, determined to get the bedroom painting finished before the kids came home that afternoon. But when she got upstairs, she realized that she was short a necessary piece of equipment – a ladder.

Racking her brains on where she was going to find a ladder, she realized that she had seen one when she had gone to collect Eddie at the gym. Biting her lip, she decided to put her pride in her pocket and go ask if she could borrow it.

Turkish was holding the sandbag for George when he heard the door open behind him. Calling over his shoulder:

"I'll be with you in a minute."

Two minutes later, George finished the session and Turk turned to see who had come in. He stopped short when he spotted Bethany, thinking that he wouldn't be seeing her unless it was to collect Eddie.

"Hello. Eddie's not here." he said, springing to his own defense.

"Hi. I know Ed's isn't 'ere, I just dropped 'im at school. I was wonderin'…"

She trailed off into an embarrassed silence and he prompted her:

"Wondering about what?"

"Um, if I could borrow your ladder? I'll 'ave it back tonight – promise!"

Turkish noticed again that when she was agitated or embarrassed, her accent broadened, betraying her East End background. He grinned:

"Sure you can borrow it, but can you get it back to the house on your own?"

Her face fell and he could see that she hadn't thought of that. Grinning a bit more, he said:

"Why don't we load it into my car and I'll take you and it back to your place."

"Um," she squirmed in embarrassment, not wanting him to see where they lived.

"You can't carry it back the whole way." he said gently.

"Yeah, okay." she said grudgingly.

"Famous." He smirked and then hollered for George to pack the ladder into the boot of the land rover. In no time they were splashing along the streets in the direction of the warehouse district.

"There." she pointed at the small building and Turk stopped the car outside the main doors. Getting out, she pulled out a set of keys and proceeded to open the smaller door set into the main double door. Turk went round and pulled out the ladder and started carrying it inside, sliding past Bethany who was holding the door open.

Bethany closed the door behind her and faced him, drawing on her years of experience to keep her face completely expressionless. Inside she was alternately cringing with embarrassment and wondering why the hell she cared what he thought of them.

"There you are. When you're done with it, you can call the gym and one of us will come and fetch it, okay?"

"Sure." She nodded, not about to tell him that she didn't have a telephone or an idea of his number.

"Right then" he reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a business card and held it out to her. "Here's where you can reach me."

Bethany took the proffered card and shoved it into her back pocket without looking at it. Looking up at Turkish, she saw his gaze had been drawn by a bowl on the side of the sink. Closing her eyes, she sent up a small prayer, hoping that he wouldn't say anything.

Turkish frowned and stepped closer to the sink to make sure he was seeing things correctly. His handkerchief was soaking in a bowl of water that had turned red. He turned back to her and asked:

"I hope you got a tetanus shot for that 'scratch' of yours." He stated deadpan.

"Oh yeah, I went this morning early." She said quickly.

He said nothing, just quirked a brow in her direction and then turned around to walk to the door. Opening it, he turned back to her and said:

"I'll be seeing you later then."

"As soon as I'm finished." She promised brightly, resisting the urge to shove him out the door.

She closed it behind him and leaned against the wall, heaving a huge sigh of relief, but at the same time, confused as to why he was making her so nervous.

Shaking her head, she picked up the ladder and toted it upstairs where she got to work.

The door closed behind him so fast that Turkish was surprised that she hadn't pushed him out. The clicking of the key as it turned in the lock made him grin although he wasn't sure why. As he climbed into the land rover he thought about the way Bethany had behaved ever since he had met her and he knew that she was hiding something. As he drove back to the gym, he wondered if it was going to spell trouble for him and Tommy.

As he pulled up outside, he noticed Hans's car was outside and his heart sank since he wasn't very fond of their landlord but played nice, always aware of who held their lease. He squared his shoulders and stepped inside, ready to make small talk and inane chatter.

"Ah, Turkish." Called Hans enthusiastically when he spotted him. "Come listen."

He could see that Hans had cornered Tommy at the desk and from the look on Tommy's face, he had been talking to him for a while now. A small stab of pity went through him as he came up to them, pulled up a chair and sat backwards on it.

"Heya Hans, what's up?"

"I have been telling Tommy here about the exciting match that I am to attend this evening." He enthused in his oddly formal English.

"Would that be a boxing match then?" asked Turk sharply. "Don't tell me that you're not finding our matches satisfactory."

"No no may friend, your matches are just fine!" said Hans. "But the sport that I am talking about is a little more…"

He fell silent and groped for an appropriate word. Eventually his eyes lit up and he swung back to Turkish and said:

"Refined. Yes, the sport that I am talking about is more refined than just plain boxing."

"And you want us to attend, why?" asked Turk suspiciously.

"Ah, that is the business matter to discuss later, yes?" said Hans slyly. "I'll see you here, at nine o'clock."

With the word 'here' he tossed a scrap of paper on the desk and breezed out of the gym, leaving the smell of his heavy cologne behind.

Tommy and Turkish exchanged puzzled looks and then Tommy picked up the paper and said:

"This is out on the other end of the city. How are we going to get out there?"

"What makes you think we're actually going to go?" said Turkish peevishly.

"Well, um, not like you to pass up a business opportunity." Said Tommy.

Turkish rubbed his hands over his bristly scalp and sighed.

"Y'right Tommy. It's just that I never wanted to be this close in the pocket of ze Germans."

"Or in this case, ze German." Smirked Tommy.

"Yeah, yeah." Grumbled Turkish. "Now let's see those figures."

The two of them passed the rest of the morning doing the books and Turk's sullen mood was slightly improved when he realized that they were doing really well. But he still had a nagging voice in the back of his mind telling him that it wouldn't last – it never did.

Bethany straightened up with a horrible sound that was half a groan of pain mingled and half a sigh of relief. The painting was finished and nearly dry. She couldn't wait to see their faces when they got home from school that afternoon. Glancing at the clock, she was surprised to see that she only had an hour to go before she had to leave to collect them.

She cleaned out the brushes and put the paint away and then headed off to the bathroom to shower. While she was waiting for the water to heat up, she tinkered with the leaking pipe under the hand basin. As soon as the pipes stopped banging against the wall, she knew that the water was ready and she shucked off her grubby clothes and stepped into the hot water.

Half an hour later she was walking the streets on her way to the school.

"Oh wow!" exclaimed Jack as he and the other boys surveyed their new paintjob. Similar cries of excitement came from the girl's room. Bethany smiled, glad that they were excited.

This makes it all worthwhile. She thought to herself, listening to their joy.

Before her inner conscience could begin to ask questions that she wasn't ready to answer, she called out to the kids:

"All right you lot, lets get downstairs and give it a chance to dry properly. Come on!"

She hustled them downstairs and got herself pulled into a game of romps before she made dinner. Getting the children fed, their homework done and ready for bed was fairly easy. Years of experience had honed their routine to a near military operation. Soon the unlikely household was quiet and the restful sounds of children sleeping filled the upstairs area.

Standing in the doorway to the boys' room, she used the thin wash of light from the outside streetlight to make sure that they were sleeping. Walking quietly, she made her way downstairs and let herself out into the night, silent as the shadows filling the street around her. Slinging a duffel bag over her shoulder, she made her way towards the main street so she could hail a taxi.

Upstairs, the children slept on, oblivious.

Hans had greeted them at the door and eagerly taken them upstairs to where they were waiting. He had seated them and then rushed off, babbling something about refreshment. Using the opportunity, Turkish looked around him and wondered what the hell he was getting himself into. They were on the second floor of the kind of house that Turk never even dreamed about being able to visit, let alone own. It was on the upper end of town and filled with obvious statements of the wealth of the owners. The room they were in was full of men and woman of all ages, race and colour. The only common denominator amongst them was money, lots of it.

Tommy was quiet as well, but not for the same reasons that Turk was. His attention was captured by the large steel cage standing in the center of the room. It was about ten feet square and reached nearly to the ceiling. Made of solid steel posts and fencing mesh, it was an imposing structure and he wondered if they were into some sort of indoor wrestling.

Turkish, a little more worldly than Tommy, knew exactly what he was looking at, a fighting cage. Only used in some form of illegal blood sport. He wondered if it was going to be bare-knuckled boxing or something a little more extreme. He didn't wait long to find out.

Hans came bustling back, bearing three glasses of expensive French champagne and handed one to each of them while clutching his own. Speaking eagerly, he told them that the fight was going to start momentarily and that they were in for a treat tonight since there was going to be an amateur match before the main event. Not wanting to give away his unease, Turkish smiled thinly and said:

"I can hardly wait."

"I knew it!" exclaimed Hans. "I knew it from the moment I found out who you were, this was going to be your thing."

"What exactly is 'this'?" asked Tommy, peering round Turk's chest. "I'm a little lost."

Hans burst into wild laughter and said to Turk:

"He's so innocent is he not?"

"Yeah, innocent." Muttered Turk before burying his nose in champagne bubbles.

Stung, Tommy leaned back and watched the people taking their seats. What ever was going on, it was about to start.

"Good Evening ladies and gentlemen!"

The voice boomed out of a rotund man standing in front of the cage, wearing a suit and carrying a microphone. He gestured to a stocky man on his left and said:

"Phillip here had agreed to take on the amateur match tonight. His opponent will be Justin."

He waved his hand to his right where there was a pale and trembling teenager who started to wave but then thought better of it. He shot a look at Phillip who glared back and then took off his shirt revealing his heavily muscled and badly scarred body. Justin swallowed hard and removed his own shirt, baring his pale and unmarked skin.

The crowd went wild and shouted all sorts of insults and jeers. Turkish had a hard time making out the things that were being said and then just gave it up as a bad job. He noticed a pair of shapely ladies circulating the crowd, taking money and passing out slips of paper and figured they were taking the bets. Hans waved them away and said to him:

"I am waiting for the main event. No sense in wasting good money on an untried boy no?"

Turk just nodded and tried to ignore the little voice in his mind that was telling him was going to happen.

Phillip, Justin and the announcer were joined by a third young woman who was wheeling in a large ornate chest, highly polished and carved. Opening it with a flourish, it revealed a frightening collection of knives and blade and other pointy objects. Phillip and Justin leaned in, selecting weapons.

Tommy felt his eyes widen and nudged Turk, who looked at him. He mouthed silently:

"What the hell is going on here?"

Turk leaned down and spoke quickly and quietly:

"It's a knife fight. Two armed opponents go head to head, either for first blood or worse."

"Worse!" hissed Tommy. "What could be worse?"

Turkish said nothing but his face spoke volumes and then he said firmly:

"Just stay quiet and go along with this, we're not in a good place right now and we want to get out of here with all our bits intact. All right?"

Tommy nodded, his face almost as pale as the unfortunate Justin's. Facing forward again, Turkish could feel the horror build inside of him. Sure, boxing wasn't exactly a fucking tea party either, but neither of the men tried to deliberately kill each other. He dreaded the outcome of the match that was getting underway.

The door closed behind Phillip's back and was latched from the outside. He and Justin circled each other, waiting for the sound of the bell. The announce raised the mike and said:

"This will be a first blood match, seeing that it is the first time Justin has been in the ring. If no blood had been drawn after three minutes, an extra two minutes will be given. If no blood is drawn after that, the match will be declared a draw. Gentlemen, you understand the rules, now, fight!"

The crowd roared its approval as Phillip lunged at Justin with a sharp bowie knife. Having selected a longer blade, Justin managed to deflect the blow and lean away. Regaining his balance, Phillip watched Justin through narrowed eyes and then stepped back quickly as the youngster stepped in with a sideways strike. The blade hissed past him and Justin followed, unable to stop his own momentum. Phillip used the opportunity to strike from the back, slashing deep into the pale skin from left shoulder to right hip. Justin howled and crumpled into a heap in the corner. Sneering at him, Phillip stripped the blood from his blade with thumb and forefinger and flicked it away from him.

The announcer hurriedly opened the door and let Phillip out who lifted his arm in victory. There was a brief bustle of activity as the two ladies collected the money or paid it out while other women circulated with more champagne. Justin was hauled out of the ring with no apparent concern for his injuries and hustled off out of the room. Soon the noise settled down as the announcer stepped back to the cage and lifted the mike.

"We are in for a treat tonight ladies and gentlemen, made possible by Hans."

The roving spot picked out Hans and blinded Turk and Tommy as he stood and made a flamboyant bow to the crowd. The announcer allowed the applause for a moment and then spoke again, drawing the light back to him.

"Last night a challenge was issued and accepted. There will be no time limit for this grudge match. It had been called as a fifth blood. Five wounds to be inflicted on one opponent. No points will be awarded to blows to the hands or forearms. Blows to the face will count. Now lets meet the fighters:"

A man in his mid thirties stepped into the pool of light and took up an arrogant stance next to the announcer. He was tall and at first glance, looked slender. Further inspection revealed broad shoulders with long lean muscles that indicated strength and speed. He was bare chested and wore a pair of exercise pants. In each hand he held a broad hunting knife with barbs on the back of the blade. They were at least three-quarters of a foot long and were gleaming in the spotlight with deadly promise of sharpness.

"In this corner, the challenger, Jason."

Jason took up a fighting stance and lifted the knives above his head, crossing the blades and drinking in the cheers of the crowd.

"He's a pompous ass." Muttered Hans to Turk. "He wishes to make a name for himself on the back of a legend."

"That happens in my business as well." Said Turk, who was so far unimpressed with what he had been shown. Blood sport just didn't do it for him, but to keep the peace, he kept his opinion to himself.

"And for your viewing pleasure ladies and gentlemen, the defender. Who needs no introduction, who has been out of the cage for three years, who ruled the sport for five years before that, the Reaper!"

The crowd erupted to its feet and the noise level increased to a deafening pitch. From the back of the room, the seething mass of humanity started to part to allow someone to step through towards the cage. Turkish didn't stand with the rest of the crowd and only saw the defender as they walked past his row. They were wearing a black robe with the hood drawn up, leaving nothing to see.

"Not very tall." He remarked to Hans, as the excited German took his seat.

"You will learn my friend that nothing is always as it seems in this world."

The Reaper had reached the cage and lifted their hands to push the hood back. As it fell, the harsh light of the spot glinted off brown hair and pale skin. Turkish felt like someone had slammed a hammer into his gut and Tommy hissed urgently into his ear, telling him what he already knew:

"That's Bethany!"


End file.
